Showing posts with label ingredients. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ingredients. Show all posts

Friday, October 12, 2018

Fiery Ginger Gingerly Scenting

Ginger is older than we think of but its prevalence amongst the Eastern tradition is what makes westerners regard it as "new". The warming effect of this wonderful spicy oil is part of the reason it lends itself so well in cuisine and why oriental but also floral compositions benefit from its shimmery aura. It shares DNA with turmeric and cardamom and the commercial rise of the latter in perfumery (notably through Jean Claude Ellena's many creations extolling its refreshing qualities) probably aided ginger as well.

via

I should probably begin my exposition of newer ginger fragrances with a respectful nod to their precursor. The "humble" Ginger Essence by Origins was launched in 2000 but it soon gained something of a cult status thanks to its simple but uplifting properties which married the hot and sensuous qualities of ginger root oil to the aromatic and happy disposition of lemony essences. It's still cheerful after all those years and highly recommended to women who can't stomach perfumes around pregnancy (much like ginger itself is recommended for morning sickness) but it lacks the complexity that makes for a classic. Still it gave wings to a rising star.

Of course ginger can be treated two-fold.

On the one hand, there is the spicy aromatic quality that pairs well with citruses and men's colognes, such as Dior Homme Sport and L'Homme (YSL), where it gives that delectable sheen we associate with summery skin.

On the other, ginger has the association with that traditional wintery treat, the gingerbread, going for it for those who have more of a sweet tooth. Even the Japanese appreciate ginger for its dessert-leaning properties; when they don't pickle it, they turn it into a candy.

Nutmeg & Ginger (Jo Malone) as well as Vaniglia e Zenzero (L'Erbolario Lodi) both treat ginger as a spicy component of a delicious dessert.  Tonka Impériale (Guerlain) smothers the gingerbread with the almondy goodness of tonka beans and honey; it's a cashmere wrap for cold winter days. Five o'clock au Gingembre by Lutens on the other hand is as if dipped in brown sugar and molasses; the ginger turns ambery. For a while gingerbread in gourmand renditions was the golden rule of thumb. Then something shifted.


The re-emergence of fresh ginger notes came to the fore with a bang via Hermès; the brand as we will see is really on the vanguard of major trends and I consider it a pioneer in consolidating newer directions to the mind of the public. With Un Jardin Après La Mousson Hermès managed two things at once: evoking the Kerala landscape in all its humid monsoon glory without using the melon-smelling Calone aroma chemical, and injecting the whole with that precise amount of subdued spiciness which would never make the folklore element of an India-inspired scentscape appear maudlin or condescending.

The only logical next step for Hermès would be Twilly d'Hermes and indeed its novelty factor lies in upturning the tables once again. Twilly as I have analysed in its "sparring" with Chanel's Gabrielle hits all the right spots with street smarts coupled with an impressive pedigree; it basically had Gabrielle for lunch. But that's beside the point when it comes to its composite elements that help make it memorable. The ginger is treated like a gauze. It's never scathing or too hot to handle and its interlacing with the white floralcy of tuberose seems novel and familiar all at once. It's impossible not to like it. Twilly's success on the market will probably be used as a focus group litmus test for other perfumes to come... so its ginger note is one that begs attention.

Meanwhile other scents by niche or smaller as well as big companies have cornered ginger for its exceptional olfactory profile which elevates the rest of the composition. If you want to have an unusual combination with powdery iris and abstract cedar notes look no further than the woody muskiness of Arz el Rab (Berdoues). Korres, the Greek pharmacy brand that is exported in several countries, has recently introduced Ginger Mint Eau de Cologne, which is probably what someone going on a warm place vacation should stock up on; the tingling of the nose helps keep you going when it's muggy or hot.

Last but not least, the fact that Dior has followed on their surprisingly OK Poison Girl (more on the happy paradox HERE) with  Poison Girl Unexpected makes us pause and consider how ginger has its place even in a young girl's fragrance wardrobe.

We surely haven't seen the last of ginger yet!




Thursday, September 27, 2018

A Taste for Rhubarb: Modern Incarnations of an Older Idea

Although rhubarb may sound totally contemporary, classical stuff like Ma Griffe by Carven has hinted at the tart juiciness in the context of a "green scent" in order to give a little mouthwatering taste alongside the pluck your lips bitterness. In fact rhubarb shares olfactory facets with rose and berries (another trendy note) therefore its inclusion in fragrant compositions comes easily enough. It also pairs beautifully with jasmine and tuberose which is a distinct plus.

via

Several years ago the Renaissance of rhubarb note started, however and today it is quite popular - in the niche segment at least most certainly. In the mainstream previous attempts at incorporating a rhubarb note were not met with great success: Burberry Brit Red, Alexander McQueen Kingdom, and Hugo Red by Hugo Boss were all commercial flops; some quite undeservedly indeed.

A slew of brands issued rhubarb notes in the interim with varying intensity and dare: Comme des Garcons Series 5 Rhubarb (which is very fruity and candied), Ricci Ricci, 4711 Aqua di Colonia Rhubarb & Clary Sage, Guerlain Homme Intense, and the Aedes de Venustas eponymous eau de parfum with its bold spicy basil and smoky incense context.

But the highlight into the public consciousness probably came with Hermès’s Eau de Rhubarbe Écarlate (review coming up); a fragrance that took the unusual note into central focus cutting it with a laser beam and flanking it with soft musks that would please the consumer into a false sense of familiarity. The trick worked. Suddenly everyone was crazy for rhubarb!

Of course Hermès had dabbled their hand in rhubarb before; the footnote in Rose Ikebana in the boutique exclusive line Hermessences was notable and created by Jean Claude Ellena who loves tart and saline effects in perfumery.

If Hermès was quirky and defiant enough to showcase the vegetable in the advertising images though, Cartier's La Panthère was the major feminine perfume which featured rhubarb notes unashamedly in a posh and chic context. It seemed to go down well so creators were becoming bolder.

The "Rhubarb leaf" in the recently launched Mugler Aura is a chord based on the long familiar and widely used material called styralyl acetate, or gardenol; its tartness is a good aesthetic match for rendering a shimmery effect in a gourmand composition. Kokorico by Night (Gaultier) is a lighter interpretation with cooler hesperidia as a counterpoint.

The new Champ des Fleurs (L'Artisan Parfumeur) is another testament to the power of vegetal notes lending freshness to contemporary compositions. The crunchy texture of rhubarb is something that should pair well in that context.

On the other hand the evocation of gardens is going well in the advertorials of Lovely Garden (Oriflame) and White Lilac & Rhubarb (Jo Malone). Nevertheless the former is more of a creamy and delicious compote of fresh rhubarb dressed in milk rather than anything green as implied by its design and naming. It's really something which anyone who is hesitant of rhubarb should try out; they'd be faced with a very surprised nose! Malone's rendering is more traditionally English garden with the tart interplay of rhubarb providing an anchor to the watery and heliotrope-like softness of the lilacs. It's a vignette out of an afternoon in the countryside.

Rhubarb only sounds weird in a fragrance till you try it. Like with many other things in life.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Chypre series 2: Ingredients

Perfume lovers are well aware of the fact that "notes" in perfume denote only the feel that certain ingredients emote and not necessarily the exact ingredients that go into the composition of the final product. Such is the case with chypre perfumes as well.
Although we described the traditional elements inherent to the tradition of chypre perfumes in the previous article in the series, this serves only as a guidance to constituents playing a greater or smaller part in the art of composing. Each variant highlights a slightly different note or places emphasis on something that distinguishes it from other members of its class.

Modern synthetic aromachemicals also play a part in this process. The conventional notes of bergamot, oakmoss, civet, rose, neroli, vetiver, angelica, sandalwood and the herbal touches of thyme, tarragon and basil are joined thus by linalyl acetate, amyl salicylate and the characteristic note of safrole or isosafrole. The latter is a composition of the German firm Heine, circulating under the name Product EM.
This note has been called the very thing that assures the perfume's success and it is based on oakmoss, labdanum, liquidambar, linalyl acetate and possibly several floral essences that give that special abstract florancy characteristic to chypre compositions.

Although most people marginally into perfume tend to view chypres as the equivalent of a J.S.Bach fugue, all complicated themes recurring as the perfume evolves on the skin making for a formula that is highly sophisticated and which demands originality and expert handling from the perfumer, it has been proposed that in fact the contrary is much more the case.

The formula of a chypre is strict and allows less of a leeway for producing something that would risk being an abject failure, so a lack of imagination might be attributed to houses that might bring out new perfumes in the genre falling back on what is more or less a "safe bet". This is what prompted Maurice Chevron to remark: "It is simply beef stake". The culinary comment denoting that it is something standard, proper, always good with whatever twist you make it.

Chypre perfumes according to the elements that they highlight are classified into subcategories, named after the element they bring into the flesh on the classic chypre skeleton.
Therefore according to the French Society of Perfumers the basic subcategories are:
Floral chypre
Floral aldehydic chypre
Green chypre
Fruity chypre
Aromatic chypre
Leathery chypre

Another category, termed "coniferous chypre" might be included, encompassing heavier use of resins. And one might argue that leather/cuir is a category on its own (which it is), leaving legends such as Bandit by Piguet, Cabochard by Gres or Cuir de Russie by Chanel into a chypre limbo. For the purposes of this series, we will give those leathery compositions permission to rest into chypre heaven and play the harp to the skies. Or hell, in select cases...

To understand what goes into the production of each category one might glimpse the lists stated in professional handbooks. I therefore present you with some examples from an older textbook on the subject.
In the interests of journalistic ethics/deontology the exact measurements have been ommitted in the following breakdowns.

The ingredients below form the body of an aldehydic chypre (the name of aromachemical company that produces the ingredient in parenthesis):

Rose No.1
Ysminia (Firmenich)
Jasmin absolute
Oakmoss absolute superessence, Yugoslav (Schmoller)
Bergamot oil
Oakmoss absolute (Camilli)
Jasmin No.1
Geranium sur rose oil
Methyl ionone
Vetiver oil
Sandalwool oil
Linalool ex bois de rose
Dianthine (Firmenich)
Eugenol
Hydroxycitronellal
Gardenia 9058 (Givaudan)
Costus absolute 10%
Mace oil
Florizia (Firmenich)
Tincture of Musk, 3%
Tincute of Civet, 3%
Musk ambrette
Musk ketone
Coumarin
Vanillin
Aldehyde C.10, 1%
Aldehyde C.11 (undecyclenic) 1%
Aldehyde C.12 (MNA) 10%


Another characteristic chypre base contains the following:

Coumarin
Vanillin
Ethyl vanillin
Heliotropin
Methyl ionone
Musk ketone
Rose H
Orange oil, bitter, Guinea
Geraniol extra
Bois de Rhodes oil (Chiris-UOP)
Noisette (de Laire)
Sandalwood oil
Benzoin Supergomodor (Chiris-UOP)
Liquidambar II
Labdanum Clair (Lautier)
Linalool ex bois de rose Cayenne
Linalyl acetate ex bois de rose
Terpinyl acetate
Benzyl acetate
Vetiver acetate
Estragon (tarragon) oil 5%
isoButylquinolin 5%
Ysminia (Firmenich)
Bergamot oil, sesquiterpeneless
Bergamot oil

And here there is a distinctively 'animal' note in a chypre base.

Oakmoss absolute hyperessence (Charabot)
Jasmin absolute
Musc VH (Ets. Hasslauer) 10%
Musc baume epure (Payan & Bertrand)10%
Ambergris tincture
Civet tincture
Musk ketone
alpha-Methyl ionone
Sandalwood oil
Vetiver oil
Bergamot oil
Rose No.3
Bouvardia CNC (Firmenich)
Carrot Clair (Lautier) 10%
Celery Clair (Lautier) 10%
Tobacco W (I.F.F.)
Aldehyde C.11 (undecylenic) 10%
Cyclopentadecanolide 1%
Orange oil superdèterpenèe (Charabot)
Celery seed oil
Angelica root oil

This formula is for a modified chypre perfume with a peach top note. Does this remind you of anything?


Ysminia (Firmenich)
Wardia (Firmenich)
Benzyl acetate
Orange oil, sweet
Jasmin absolute
Vetiveryl acetate
Cedryl acetate (Givaudan)
Sandalwood oil (Mysore)
Lavender oil, Barrême 42% esters
isoEugenol
Amyl salicylate
Bergamot oil
Lemon oil, Guinea
Methyl ionone
Ylang-ylang oil
Oakmoss decolorèe (Robertet)
Patchouli oil
Petitgrain oil, paraguay
Indole
Citral
Aurantiol
Dimethyl benzyl carbinol
Hydroxycitronellal
I-citronellol
Geranium extra
Fennel oil
Black pepper oil
Coumarin
Musk ketone
Civettone
Ambrettozone (Haarmann & Reimer)
Ambrarome Absolute (Synarome)
Clove bud oil
Aldehyde (pseudo) C.18, 10%
Aldehyde (pseudo) C.16, 10%
Aldehyde C.14 ('peach'), 10%

Of course there are several restrictions on ingredients, both natural and synthetic, some caused by concerns on their allergenic nature or possibility for producing a hives reaction on certain skins. Eugenol, coumarin, geraniol to name but a few are clearly stated in the ingredients on the package by law. Some others have even been linked to cancers, such as musk ketone, and therefore heavily axed.
And of course there have been several others that have been cut out simply due to unavailability, ethics or extreme cost, such as natural animalic notes in the vein of castoreum, civet, deer musk and natural ambergris.

The most controversial though has been oakmoss, a natural tree lichen that grows on oak trees and which forms the backbone of a traditional chypre. For more in depth info on this ingredient and the controversy it has spawned recently due to the IFRA guidelines for the production of perfume as well as the EU laws, I guide you to my previous article, on which Luca Turin had the good grace to comment on.
You can access it by clicking here.



Next installement will occupy itself with another interesting aspect of chypre perfumery.




Top pic sent to me by mail unaccredited, second pic courtesy of athinorama.gr

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Continuing the saga: *what* future of perfumery???



I planned on writing up something about how the future of perfumery looks very grim indeed after so much arbitrary action has been taken to limit and restrict creativity for anyone concerned.

You might remember that it started long ago with oakmoss, a natural sunstance of which there is no equivalent synthetic to substitute, rendering a whole olfactory family, that of the chypres, obsolete and wimpering at its last throes of vintage life. After the loss of those vintages, nothing more...This had prompted me to write a lament for Mitsouko the brave. Maybe I was just being my usual passionate self.
But then the issue escalated and then escalated some more.
This has taken such a toll that even Chanel is issuing things in Les Exclusives line (more of which in review form later on) that smell nothing like chypre, yet they are being touted as being the best chypre in 30 years.
I don't know...I might be cynical. But is this what we are reduced to?

So today I came across this excellent article by Tony Burfield who is co-founder of Cropwatch ( a body who does some 'opposition' work for that 40th amendement IFRA of which I have talked about) and I think it's very worth reading.
Please do so here.
It seems as though we are being conditioned to believe that things are not what we see them plainly to be. A Magritte come alive.

I would be very interested in your comments.


Artwork by Rene Magritte "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" (=this is not a pipe) courtesy of allposters.com

Sunday, January 28, 2007

It's the end of the world as we know it (perfume ingredients banned)



The above line from a well-known REM song unfortunately does not leave me feeling fine, like the song repeated time after time again in its refrain. Maybe it has to do with my abhorrence for state intervention of any kind in what I perceive as my consumer’s choice. Maybe it has to do with the prospect of endangered aromas, in the manner of endangered species that is looming in the horizon very shortly. Or maybe, just maybe, I am one of those who safe in their well-arranged existence likes to live precariously through the sensual pleasures that are given us, who knows for how much longer: a vivere pericolosamente mentality of eating medium-rare bovine steak, listening to alternative underground bordering on satanistic some would argue rock with covers that might bruise sensitive feministic sensibilities and -last but not least- using perfumes containing real oakmoss in amounts exceeding the prescribed percentage set by IFRA (the International Fragrance Association) and the EU (European Union).

In view of the whole debacle of oakmoss use as stated in a previous article, I was just about to resign myself to searching for vintage bottles of my favourite chypre perfumes such as Mitsouko, Femme, Bandit and Chanel#19. Not an easy task all the same, as perfume unlike wine does not come with a production year, despite the fact that we perfume-users use the oenological term vintage so often to convey a particularly good aged masterpiece. But it seems oakmoss were to be the least of our troubles.
As Anya McCoy, a talented natural perfumer whom I have interviewed in the past in this venue and the president of the Natural Perfumers Guild, brought to my attention, there is a whole list of ingredients that are about to be eradicated or strictly controlled in the formulae of perfumes produced from now on. The control of the percentage of certain natural ingredients to minute amounts in a given formula might bear no great value in the creation of a new perfume, as it could fuel the imagination of a given nose into composing new wilder arpeggios of unprecedented combinations. It would certainly signify however the destruction and bastardization of several revered masterpieces of the past, rendering them but ghosts of their former glorious shelves leaving a generation that has never smelled the originals with a skewed perception of what greatness really is all about in the olfactory kingdom.

The alphabetical catalogue of those nature-derived aromatics that are restricted follows:
Angelica root oil
Bergamot oil expressed
Bitter Orange Peel Oil Expressed
Cade oil
Cedar moss
Chenopodium oil
Citrus oils and other furocoumarins containing essential oils
Costus root oil, absolute and concrete
Cumin oil
Fig leaf absolute
Grapefruit oil expressed
Lavender
Lemon oil cold pressed
Lime oil expressed
Massoia bark oil
Massoia lactone
Melissa oil (genuine Melissa officinalis)
Oak moss extracts
Opoponax
Peru balsam
Petitgrain Mandarin Oil
Rose oil
Santolina oil
Savin oil
Styrax
Tagetes oil and absolute
Tea leaf absolute
Tree moss extracts
Verbena absolute
Verbena oil

Perusing the list one cannot but drop one’s jaw. Lavender? The quintessential essential oil that is recommended for pacifying even babies? Citrus, bergamot and bitter orange peel oils? Seriously, do they know that here in the Mediterranean we make a dessert out of the inedible bergamot fruit, using exactly the peel of the fruit boiled in syrup made with sugar? We eat the stuff for heaven’s sake. How much more harm could it do if we applied it on our skins? Yes, I am aware that those oils are photosensitizing. Surely a warning label on the box on not wearing it on exposed body parts could serve the purpose of protecting us amply? Not to mention rose oil (whose petals we also use in a dessert….the way I am going you must have formed the impression there’s precious few things we don’t make into desserts….well, it’s true, not counting the IFRA executives in those numbers….)

But the whole scenario would not bring doom futuristic Blade Runner echoes in our ears had it been chosen to just use warning labels on the boxes, stating exactly what the dangers are, so that the consumer can make an informed choice and suffer what consequences he/she has brought upon him/herself through that choice. Much like smoking…..
To cut a long story short, this whole dirty business smells more of money and lost revenues for the companies who produce aroma-chemicals and the law-firms that defend cases of demented “victims” of allegedly dangerous perfumes, than real flower and fruit oils.
It reminds me of the notorious case of an electronic goods company who lost a fortune to someone who was sick enough to microwave his cat and then plead his case in court successfully stating the instructions never warned about not putting an animal in the microwave appliance in the first place…I mean, geez…

If you want to make a difference and want to be vocal on the subject, there is a petition issued by Cropwatch, an independent watchdog for natural ingredients used in perfumery; you can vote against the 40th Amendment of IFRA that restricts those ingredients and make them come into discussion about this practice.
You can do it here



Pic of Tim Burton's "Corpse bride" comes from athinorama.

Friday, November 3, 2006

The Wonders of Amber: Perfumery Material of Soft, Oriental Character

Amber is a fit subject to tackle in the colder weather, if only because it's such an enveloping aura it creates. There are many misunderstandings about amber and hopefully we will dispel some of them here. Amber is a difficult term to describe in perfumery, simply because it has so many meanings as a word. Amber has additionally become a rather generic, all encompassing term, resulting in us being able to find all types of oils touted as "amber oil" in the market and sold online.

Essentially, there is no such thing as an amber essential oil. Essential oils are oils from plants in their purest form, distilled or otherwise extracted from a single plant species. Fragrant amber is a combination of several different botanical sources (or in ambergris’s case -which is a completely different material- a product of animal origin, more on which later). There is no one plant from which amber comes from, although some claim it comes from a special tree growing in the Himalayas. This is probably imaginative copy. Fir tree resin, in its regular, non-fossilised form is actually used in perfumery sometimes and offers a rather sweet, warm and deep smell that serves as a base to anchor the other ingredients that are placed on top of this less volatile ingredient. But it's not the usual reference.

The concept of "amber" on the whole is in fact an olfactory convention of the late 19th century and became a perfume "genre" at that time with the invention of vanillin (synthetic vanilla, as known from patisserie to most of us) added to the time-honored use of labdanum. This is for all practical purposes what we refer to as the "amber note": labdanum and vanillin.

"Ambery" is the general term -according to the French system - to describe the perfumes that fall in the oriental group and that have a warm, slightly powdery, erotic, animalic tonality in them ("parfums ambrés"). We could classify Shalimar, Obsession, Must de Cartier or Moschino for women (original) in that category. This doesn't have to do with the actual ingredients, it’s rather a figure of perfumery speech, although of course the perfumes of this category do include "ambery notes".
Please note however that NOT all "orientals" however are "ambery": the opoponax-based or balsamic/resinous fragrances in the Oriental spectrum (Opium or Youth Dew for instance) can eschew significant use of pure "amber bases" (see below for actual ingredients for this) in lieu of other accords within the variety of materials in hand. Simply put, the "oriental group" of fragrances is more encompassing than the "amber orientals".

The following materials do NOT have a relation with "amber" as the term in perfumery is used:

*A sort of "amber oil" comes from the Baltic amber; the fossilized resin from a prehistoric tree called Pinus Succinifera, a pine species. Amber dust is a by-product of the fossil amber industry (which caters for jewels) and the material renders an amber oil through a process called destructive distillation of fossilized amber. The oil yielded contains succinic acid which is useful in health products, however due to its uninviting aroma it’s useless in perfumery. Therefore there is no such thing as "amber fossil" used in perfumery.

*Ambrette seed is another ingredient often mixed up with amber that gives however a musk note in perfumes. Coming from the plant Hibiscus Abelmoschus , the seeds are distilled to give a waxy substance that is then treated with an alkaline medium to give finally the "absolute”. The smell is slightly musky and soft, warm, peachy and snugly; used in many luxury perfumes.

*Ambergris is the legendary ingredient often used in relation to "amber" (as ambra/amber appear shortened sometimes, since ambergris in French means “grey amber”).
Ambergris comes from a cured secretion from sperm whales; the whale secretes a substance to heal its stomach from the scratches of the cuttlefish it swallows when feeding. This gets out through the gastrointestinal system and is left floating on the ocean for years. The floating part is what gives it its characteristic slightly salty and warm , sensuous smell. It is animalic in a subtle way and retains its scent for centuries, just like musk.

So what actually goes into the production of amber and ambery perfumes, you might ask at this point.

The answer is two-fold.

Natural ingredients are used by natural perfumers to create an amber base without actual ambergris (and without synthetic vanillin, as per above), meaning a perfume base that smells warm, erotic and sensual or simply an oil mix.
Usually these include:

1.Labdanum: Cistus labdanum or rockrose is a gum resinoid from the common in the Mediterranean rockrose bush. In the past a long double rake (ladanisterion) was used to comb off the gum from the beards of goats grazing on the bushes, especially in Crete, Greece. It has been used in incense since antiquity. Today the twigs and leaves are boiled to yield the gum. The aroma is the closest thing to real ambergris in the plant kingdom.

2.Benzoin: A secretion of the tree Styrax tonkinense, a tropical asian tree, in the form of tears, which is secreted when the tree is injured. Two varieties exist; Siamese and Sumatran, the former drier and more powdery, the latter sweeter, more caramel like.
Its aroma is sweet and warm and evolves into powdery balsamic.

3.Styrax levant (Liquidamber orientalis): Another resinoid from a tree, it smells a bit like glue with a cinnamon edge. It is important in the creation of amber chords and has a rounding effect.

4.Natural vanilla extract from the Madagascar vanilla orchid can be used. (Perfumers dabbling in synthetics opt for vanillin instead)

Mandy Aftel in her book "Essence and Alchemy" suggests a simple "amber base" made from just three materials for the amateur perfumer: 30 drops of labdanum, 120 drops of benzoin, 6 drops of vanilla.
Usually other accent notes are used in amber chords to differentiate the result and make it unique, ergo the abundance of different "amber oils" in the market. Some of the usual ingredients to do so are vanilla, tonka bean, Peru balsam (sweet ambers), clove, cinnamon, Tolu balsam, sage, juniper (drier ambers), sandalwood, patchouli, olibanum (mysterious ambers), rose, jasmine or other flower essences in very small amount (more floral ambers).

The big perfume manufacturing companies (not the designers or the cosmetics companies who label their name on them, but those who get the “brief” and go in the lab to create them, such as Firmenich, IFF, Givaudan, Roure etc) have patented their own "synthetic ambers" for use in their perfume creations. It goes without saying that in order to find out what your favourite perfume contains you have to find out which company is responsible for its creation. Those "amber bases" (and please note that some lean onto "ambergris") fall into three categories:

1.True ambers: Those include Ambrarome Absolu by Synarome, Ambrogène by Roure, Ambergrissol by IFF, Ambré B.V. by De Laire and Fixateur 404 added to Grisambrol by Firmenich.
2.Ambers from labdanum: Those include Ambreinol and Ambregris Synthetique by Givaudan, Grisambrène by Firmenich, Ambre Synthetique by Naarden.
3.Pseudo amber (which is closer to opopponax resin really): Those include Ambre 53 by de Laire, Ambreine Samuelsom by Firmenich and Ambrène by R.Sondes.

New molecules are developed as we speak. For a modern and extremely popular synthetic that draws upon amber qualities refer to our article on Ambrox/Ambroxan, a woody amber note with great tenacity and diffusion.

The issue of amber is a fascinating one and hopefully some of the more obscure aspects of it have thus been illuminated. It is important to know what is at the core of a fragrance, however it is our nose and limbic system that finally makes the decision for us. So, wishes for a happy amber hunting!


This article used some data from the archives/catalogues of the perfume companies mentioned, Mandy Aftel’s "Essence and Alchemy", Eden Botanicals and Ayala’s "Smelly blog". Thanks to all.

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